Grab Your Gear
by Jasmine2009
Summary: The catch phrase "Grab Your Gear" takes on new meaning for one Very Special Agent.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Grab Your Gear  
Author: Jasmine  
Date: April 2, 2011  
Universe: NCIS, Season 8  
Rated: PG  
Warnings: None  
Subject: The catch phrase "Grab Your Gear" takes on new meaning for one Very Special Agent.

Chapter 1

"Grab your gear— dead Petty Officer in Shenandoah National Park."

Ziva, Tim and Tony snatched up their guns and backpacks and followed their boss into the elevator. "Finally!"

Gibbs shot his senior field agent a sideways glance.

"Not that I'm happy there's a dead Petty Officer…it's just that it's been really quiet around here and I'm tired of listening to McClick pound away on his keyboard and Davίd flirt with her computer screen."

"Jealous, Tony?" she cooed.

"Not really."

"Envious then?" McGee said.

"Of you? Not even a little. I'd rather admit I was a virgin than have your computer brain."

"Then why the excitement?"

"I don't know… Just bored, I guess."

Chapter 2

Gibbs stood on the bank, looking around. "Where's the body?" he asked, raising his shoulders and lifting his arms in perplexity.

Ducky and Palmer, holding their bags of medical supplies, looked at each other and wondered the same thing.

"Nothing down here, Boss!" McGee yelled up from the bottom of a ravine where he had been canvassing, "…except poison ivy," he muttered under his breath.

Two minutes later, Ziva and Tony emerged from a stand of trees and joined them. "If there is a body here," Ziva said, "we cannot find it."

Tony opened his mouth to add his thoughts on the mystery, but then shut it abruptly when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He turned and looked behind him.

"What is it?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm not sure—" The last thing he remembered hearing was the sound of a gunshot, and the last thing he remembered feeling was the searing hot pain of a bullet grazing his head.

"Get down!" Gibbs shouted as he and McGee grabbed Tony by the jacket and dragged him behind a tree. "Anybody see anything?"

"Nothing!" Ziva yelled. "The shot came from over there." She pointed to a cluster of trees two hundred yards away."

Gibbs glanced down at his unconscious agent, "How is he, Ducky!"

His pulse was strong, but he was out cold, "He's alive. His wound appears superficial, but a quarter inch to the left and our Tony would be no longer."

"McGee, Ziva—with me."

Ducky and Palmer watched the three skulk away. When they were out of sight, the two used the tree as cover and opened their bags and began a more thorough assessment of the unconscious man.

"Got something, Boss!" McGee yelled. "Looks like the shooter perched on the limb of this tree."

Gibbs studied the trampled area, looked up and then across the open field where Tony had been standing.

"If that's where he was, he policed his brass," Ziva said.

"I wouldn't take a shot from this distance on a tree limb," Gibbs said. "It's unstable."

"Maybe that's the reason Tony's alive?"

"Search the area. Bag everything."

"On it, Boss."

For the third time, Ducky listened to Tony's heartbeat through his stethoscope. "I don't get much of an opportunity to use this thing anymore. It was a gift from my mother back in 1986. Now THAT, Mr. Palmer, was a decade to remember."

Admiring the instrument, Palmer replied, "It's very nice, Dr. Mallard."

"It's made of platinum. This one instrument alone could pay for an entire year of your medical school, including books."

"How is he?" Gibbs asked, emerging from the brush.

"Nice eighth-of-an-inch bullet-graze across his skull. He'll live, but he's going to have one hell of a headache."

"He's still unconscious?"

"It's better this way. If you want, I can bring him around with some smelling salts. Did you find anything?"

Gibbs shrugged, conveying both a yes and a no at the same time. "We think the shooter took the shot from a tree."

"That's an odd place to shoot someone. I haven't seen that since Vietnam, and it wasn't very effective then." He mused a moment before adding, "Maybe we should be thankful." He took the white capsule from his assistant, broke it in half and waved it under the unconscious man's nostrils. It only took a few swipes before Tony jerked his head away from the odor, and blinked his eyes.

"Whad…Whad happ'nd?"

"You were shot," McGee answered, thinking for a graze there was an awful lot of blood trickling down the side of his face.

Tony moved his hands to his chest, " 'm I dead?"

"Goodness no, my boy," Ducky answered, "but you might wish you were in a few hours."

"Fortunately for you, Tony," Ziva said, "you were shot in the head."

"Thad migh' splain why I'm seein' four of ya."

Ducky looked down the street in the direction of the siren, "Relax, Anthony, you'll be resting comfortably very soon."

Gibbs looked around. Finally he hissed, "I want that bullet!"

Chapter 3

Ziva and McGee exited the elevator together. "I left the hospital last night at ten and he was still sleeping," she commented.

"How long do you think he'll be out? I thought I might defrag his hard drive while he's gone."

She stopped in her tracks and stared, "I don't know if I would do that."

McGee followed her gaze and, there, sitting behind his desk was Tony pressing an icepack to the side of his head. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"

Tony looked up, squinting, "No, they let me go this morning."

"Like Hell they did, DiNozzo," Gibbs said rounding the corner and glaring down at him.

Tony lifted his head, allowing the ice pack to fall back revealing a large gauze bandage covering his forehead. "Oh, hey Boss. They said they were going to let me go home today, so I left. Do we have any idea who shot me?"

Gibbs studied him a moment longer, and put himself in his shoes. If he were sitting there nursing a headache worse than his worst hangover because someone took a potshot at him, he'd want answers too. Convinced that Tony probably wasn't any worse for wear, he replied, "Not yet. Did you see anyone or anything when you turned around?"

He slowly shook his head, "I don't remember much… Actually, I don't remember anything. Did we ever find a body?"

Ignoring the question, Gibbs addressed the other two agents, "What'd ya got for me?"

McGee walked to the plasma and clicked the remote. A large satellite photo appeared, "This is the part of Shenandoah National Park where Tony was shot. If we pull back, we can see that there are only two ways to access the area: from the east, which is the way we came in, and from the south. Both have Ranger stations and parking lots."

Ziva continued, "We've checked with the rangers and run through all the license plates. There's nothing to suggest bird play."

McGee and Tony looked at each other. "Foul play," McGee corrected.

"Yes, that is what I said."

"What about hunters in the area?"

"None of the visitors had permits to hunt," McGee said. "And this area of the park is too populated with people to make it attractive to hunters. The animals favor the more dense vegetation on the western side."

"Who the hell called in the dead Petty Officer?" Gibbs demanded.

"We don't know," Ziva answered. "We are running phone records right now."

"I want a name!"

_**Like most writers, I live for comments. If you're so inclined, feed my muse…  
TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Gibbs!" Abby ran up to him. "How's Tony!"

"He's fine, Abs, what'd ya got for me?"

"Not much and everything. The 'everything' part has to do with the bullet you found that almost took off Tony's head. I was able to ID the type of rifle it came from: an M82A1, the early version. The 'not much' part is that this particular rifle is very common. You can get it practically anywhere. So when's Tony coming back to work?"

"He's already here. Upstairs."

"Really? I have to go see him!"

"Not yet. Did you get any fingerprints off the bullet?"

"No. In fact, it was lodged so deep into that Oak tree that I didn't get anything from it at all, except for fragments of the tree, not even DNA from Tony."

Gibbs handed her a caf-pow and turned to leave.

"Gibbs! Can I see him now?"

He took a minute to think about DiNozzo's splitting headache and weighed it against her exuberance. "I'm sure he'd like that."

88~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Grab your gear. An explosion at Ft. Belvoir."

Tony, Ziva, and Tim snatched up their guns, badges and backpacks and followed Gibbs. There was a four person pileup when Gibbs stopped suddenly, causing McGee to run into Tony who pushed into Ziva who bumped into her boss. "Sorry, Gibbs," she quickly said, throwing an annoyed glance back at her partner, who passed it backwards to McGee.

"DiNozzo, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going with you, Boss."

Gibbs tilted his head and looked at his agent.

"C'mon, Boss. I'm fine. It's been over two weeks and the headaches are gone, the blurred vision is gone, even the bandage is gone. And I've been cleared for duty by the resident doc. Besides, we're getting nowhere locating the person who shot me, so why can't I work a case?"

Gibbs waggled his head, evaluating the argument, then turned and entered the elevator, ignoring his senior field agent's grin.

Once inside the gates of Ft. Belvoir, Gibbs maneuvered their Ford Taurus into a vacant slot, and surveyed the area. Already, there was yellow tape strung around the perimeter of a warehouse and guards posted at every turn. An MP stopped them. "Sir, can I see some ID?"

Gibbs flashed his badge and credentials and asked, "Is this where the explosion took place?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Anybody killed?"

"We can't find any bodies, but there's a lot of blood. We're doing a personnel check now."

Gibbs walked inside and was met by the burnt odor of old surplus military supplies. The only source of light came from a 2nd story window. "Ziva, DiNozzo, take pictures. McGee, talk to the soldier who called it in."

"Right."

Gibbs stared at the floor. It was covered in some sort of crimson-colored liquid which didn't seem to have any real source. Ducky was pulling samples to take back to the lab when Gibbs leaned over his shoulder and asked, "Do you think it's human?"

"It's too hard to tell. It could be from an animal, I supposed, a large one maybe."

Gibbs stepped back to allow Ziva maximum advantage to the floor and surrounding areas that were covered in debris from the fire. He looked around the interior of the dimly lit room. "DiNozzo, see if you can open that bay door and get some light in here."

"Sure thing, Boss." Tony walked across the room and examined the heavy steel bay door, looking around for a switch or something that would lift it. He found a rope dangling from a pulley and smiled, "Got it, Boss. I'll have it opened in a minute!" He tugged, but it didn't budge. "Better make that two minutes."

From across the room, McGee watched his colleague wrestle with the rope and couldn't suppress a smile. "C'mon Tony, put some of that extra weight into it!"

"I'll have you know I've lost a few pounds. However, McKnow-It-All, you might be on to something." Slinging the camera around his neck, he grabbed the rope as high as he could reach and jumped, allowing the full weight of his body to act as leverage against the stubborn door. The last thing he remembered seeing was a giant flash as the door exploded into a ball of fire and he was catapulted across the room from the force.

88~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is he?" Gibbs asked, suppressing his impatience.

"Surprisingly, he's better off than we originally thought," the doctor answered. "He has multiple wounds, but most are superficial. There're no broken bones and only a couple of gashes that warranted sutures." He flipped through some pages on a clipboard and said, "If I'm to understand, he's coming off an earlier head injury? He was shot?"

"Yeah," Gibbs answered like it was a common occurrence.

The doctor waited for more, but when nothing was forthcoming, he said, "He has a concussion, we're not sure how severe yet, but it doesn't help that he's suffered a previous head wound. I have to warn you, he's going to look a lot worse than he is. Lots of cuts and bruises, but at this point, we believe there's nothing too serious and he'll make a full recovery."

The doctor startled when the double doors to the waiting room flew open and a woman with jet black pigtails, black lipstick and black platform boots burst into the room. "Where is he? Where is Tony? Gibbs! Is he okay? I rushed here as fast as I could. I can't believe it! Is he okay?"

"Abby," Ziva said. "Tony is fine. A little cut up, and maybe another headache, but he's going to be fine."

"I can't believe what happened to him! Is it bad luck? Or is there something else going on? I'm all about positive thoughts right now. Can I see him?"

All eyes turned to the doctor who still seemed to be shocked by this woman's appearance.

Ziva repeated, "Is it okay if we see him, Doctor?"

"I don't see why not. He's mildly sedated, so don't stay too long."

The doctor was right; Tony was a mess. He was bruised from the top of his head to his feet and had cuts and scrapes in every exposed part of his body. Abby pulled up a chair and sat down, defying anyone to make her move. She covered his hand with hers and started talking good thoughts, "Tony? I know you're sleeping—well, not really sleeping, probably more like a drug induced slumber, but if you need anything―not now, of course, but when you wake up, just let me know. Oh, I wanted to tell you that I bowled a great game last night. The best I've ever rolled. And Sister Bernadette also bowled a personal best. It was a good night for bowling. You should have come with us because the sisters, well, you know how they fawn all over you. They ask about you every night. They think you should be married, but I tell them you and I are a lot alike. We like to play the field."

"Abby?"

She looked up at Gibbs with large dark eyes, "Yes?"

"I'm going to put someone at his door tonight. If he wakes up, he's going to want to leave. Talk him out of it?"

"You really think he'll leave? Wait! That means you think someone is trying to kill him! I won't let anybody get near him… Do you really think he'll try to leave?"

Gibbs tilted his head and gave her a steady look.

"Right. It's Tony, of course he'll try and leave. And I won't let him. I'll stay by his side all night if I have to."

He kissed her forehead and said, "That won't be necessary."

Gibbs pushed through the exit doors of the hospital followed closely by his team. McGee asked, "What do you think, Boss? You think someone is really trying to kill Tony?"

"I don't know, McGee. Maybe that's what YOU'RE FOR!"

88~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ziva and Tim stood in front of Tony's desk, staring down at him. His face was a mass of cuts, scrapes and bruises, and his eyebrows and some of his hair had been singed from the blast, but the real concern was lying just behind his eyes. Deeper in color, they were flinty, and that left them both curious and worried at the same time.

"What!" he said.

"You should not be here," Ziva answered.

"And why is that?"

"Tony," McGee answered, "it's been three days. You should still be in the hospital."

"What for, McMother? As you can see, there's nothing wrong with me."

Ziva turned and dropped her purse in the cabinet drawer and slammed it shut, "THAT is a matter of opinion!"

"And in my opinion, I'm fine."

"You have another concussion!"

"I've been hit harder by Gibbs."

"Did the doctor release you?"

Tony hedged, "He said if I was feeling better I could go home."

"When? Next week!"

Tony glared over his desk at his Israeli colleague. "Have you discovered who set off the bomb yet?"

McGee turned away from Tony, dropping his shoulders at the futility of arguing with the senior agent. It was 0630 and it was too early to engage the man who could out-talk anybody on any subject. He turned on his computer and punched on the keyboard. "We know the blood wasn't human blood; in fact, it wasn't blood at all. It was plasmalytes, a sort of synthetic blood, used mostly in special effects and film making."

Gibbs watched the exchange from the second floor, then turned and walked through the Director's door, shutting it behind him a little too forcefully.

"Something bothering you, Agent Gibbs?" Vance asked.

"You could say that. I have an agent who's barely escaped death twice and you're denying my requisition for more personnel to investigate this?"

Vance closed the file he was reading, "I see he's back in the office today. He up for the job?"

"I don' know, Director. What I do know is I need more manpower to run down leads. Both Abby and Ducky are working around the clock to come up with something—anything! Meanwhile, Ziva and McGee are chasing around long shots."

"Now that DiNozzo is back, you can put him to work."

"I don't want DiNozzo leaving this office."

Vance leaned back and clasped his hands in front of his belly, studying his subordinate. "Something bothering you today?"

Gibbs pulled a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket and tossed it on the desk.

Vance looked down at it pensively before unfolding it. Written neatly on a single sheet of bonded paper were the words, **How does it feel**? He read it again, turning it over several times before looking up, "When did you get this?"

"Yesterday, it came in the mail, only there isn't any post mark on the envelope, which means it didn't come through the U.S. Postal Service. Whoever sent it has access to NCIS."

Vance studied Leroy Jethro Gibbs a full minute. There were few people who were better at their job than he, and pissing him off was never high on his list of things to do, but being adept at keeping him at bay had its own set of problems. Laying the note down on his desk, he asked, "What are you _not_ telling me?"

Gibbs paused a minute before replying, "I think someone's trying to get to me, and I think they're doing it through Tony."

"Why?"

He shrugged, he had no idea because it could literally be a motive to dozens of people.

"Why do it this way?"

"It's not a new concept. Hell, Ari Hashari did it."

Vance exhaled loudly and looked around his desk at the mounds of files. "What do you need?"

"I need a 24 hour watch detail for DiNozzo, and I want another team to run down leads."

Vance couldn't help but smile at the first request. "You think Special Agent DiNozzo is going to sit by and let people shadow him?"

"You leave Tony to me."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Come on, Frick and Frack, time to hit the head." DiNozzo lead the two security guards down the hall and out of sight.

When they were gone, McGee and Ziva jumped from their chairs and met each other in the center of the bullpen. Assured there was no one around to hear, Ziva excitedly asked, "What did Gibbs say to Tony?"

"I was hoping you knew! It's obvious he thinks Tony's in danger, but it's just weird that our DiNozzo accepted these body guards."

"I know!" Ziva agreed, "it's so unlike him!"

"He didn't have a choice," Gibbs interjected rounding the corner, "it was that, or I throw his butt in jail."

Ziva and McGee smiled at the thought of Tony having to go to jail for protection.

"What'd you find out about the bomb?"

They snapped to attention and within four minutes had spewed every piece of information they had about the blast, which amounted to nothing. A lot of leads, but nothing concrete.

Tony walked up behind them and asked, "Any matches on the cars?"

McGee shook his head, "No. None of the automobiles in Shenandoah National Park were at Ft. Belvoir. There's nothing in common with the owners either."

"Someone had to have planted that bomb. Someone somewhere had to have seen it!" Gibbs snarled, as he slammed his drawer shut and left the bullpen. He had cooled down by the time he entered Abby's lab, but not by much. "You got anything?"

"Hi, Gibbs! I heard you assigned two men to shadow our boy around. I can't think he's too happy about it?"

"Abby, what'd ya find out about the note?"

"It's written on 20 pound bonded paper, manufactured in Georgia and sold at numerous stationery stores and Hallmark stores in the area."

"And the ink?"

"Still processing that.

"Let me know when you got something."

"Gibbs! Gibbs!"

He turned back toward her and waited.

"How'd Tony take the news about his body guards?"

Gibbs smiled at the memory of telling his senior agent that two NCIS guards were going to be escorting him everywhere he went. At first, he was pissed off, but he soon discovered the potential fun he could have with his own personal lackeys. "He's just like you and me, Abs, he wants to stay alive."

Pleased that her rock was being properly cared for, she turned her attention back to the piece of evidence and with renewed energy, continued the process of breaking it down into useful parts.

88***************************

"Grab your gear. We got bones in Norfolk."

Tony, Ziva and Tim snatched their guns, badges and backpacks and headed for the elevator. Ziva was prepared this time when Gibbs stopped suddenly and she planted her feet; unfortunately, she still managed to bump up against him because now, instead of a four-man pile up, it had become a six-man pile up thanks to the extra security Tony was packing.

"Aww, Boss," Tony whined. "You can't want me to sit this one out! It's been almost two weeks since the blast, and I'm going crazy around here with nothing but Bob and Hank for company, and, no offense fellows, but you aren't exactly the type of companions I'm accustomed to being around."

Gibbs simply stated, "You're not coming, DiNozzo."

"Boss… Boss?"

Tony watched the elevator doors close before turning back around and slinging his backpack into the corner and depositing his gun back into the drawer. "Well!" he said, forcing a smile at his appendages, "anybody got any cards?"

88***************************

The bones turned out to be animal bones but it took Ducky's arrival to come to that conclusion. They didn't return to the office until after six o'clock and Tony was anxious, hyper, and full of questions.

"What kind of bones? Monkey? Dog? Cat?"

McGee yawned before answering, "We don't know."

"C'mon, you got to know something? What'd Ducky say?"

Ziva inhaled, "Tony, we are tired and it's not a case. Who cares what kind of bones they were?"

"I do! Someone's out there killing poor defenseless animals— don't tell Abby!" He didn't get any reaction from his colleagues and was going to try again when he decided against it. Dismayed at their lack of interest, and disappointed in their response, he declared he was leaving. "You all are no fun anymore. I'm taking Laurel and Hardy out tonight. They deserve it for babysitting me, right guys?"

Bob Turner and Hank Stiles smiled at the man. Of all assignments to get, they had to admit that protecting this guy was an adventure. For the past two weeks, they had basically been entertained and amused. He was a man's man and he knew how to party, from the prettiest women to the best nightclubs. He even took them to the gym to shoot some hoops, though nothing too strenuous. Keeping someone as gregarious as Tony DiNozzo out of harms-way was a big job, but as far as assignments go, this one had its perks.

"Watch your back, DiNozzo," Gibbs stated, more for the benefit of the body guards than his agent.

"You can bet on it." Tony slid into his suit jacket and was pulling it on when an incredible pain shot up his arm. "Shit!" he hissed and flung off the jacket. Ripping at his cuff, he yanked the shirt sleeve up, revealing a bright-red whelp.

"Look!" Ziva said, pointing to the floor. Crawling out of his jacket was an ugly looking creature. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you're thinking scorpion, then yes, it is!" McGee said.

Grasping his wrist tightly, Tony stared down at his forearm, feeling the poison permeating his body. The nausea and heart palpitations increased and he mumbled, "Damnit! How'd that get in there?" Trying to focus on his arm, he mumbled, "I'm not feelin' so good…" Fortunately, Hank and Bob were close enough to catch him just as his knees gave out.

"Get Ducky up here!" Gibbs said, "and call an ambulance!" He yanked a phone cord from the wall and slid in next to Tony, nudging Hank aside. With deft fingers, he tied the thin cable around Tony's bicep. By the time Dr. Mallard arrived, Tony was having difficulty breathing and using every ounce of strength to keep the contents of his stomach from escaping. "What happened to him?" Ducky asked.

"He was stung by a scorpion," McGee answered. "We have it in a box."

Ducky looked at the silver dollar size red whelp on his arm, noticing that it was expanding in diameter as he watched. He pressed his stethoscope against his chest and said, "Tony, try to take deep slow breaths."

Tony wanted to oblige, nodding once, but he wasn't doing such a good job at it.

"Ziva, call Mr. Palmer and get him to bring up the oxygen."

Hank didn't wait for the phone call to be made; he sprinted towards the steps and disappeared.

Tony's eyes went searching. When he saw Gibbs, he tried to speak, but nothing left his lips.

Gibbs leaned down and said, "Tony, you're going to be okay. We're going to find whoever's doing this."

There was no response, just an incredible desire to breathe as it felt like a vise was clamping around his chest.

When Hank returned carrying an oxygen canister, Ducky slid the mask over Tony's mouth and nose and turned the knob so the air flowed freely. While he was making adjustments, he said, "Timothy, can you describe the scorpion?"

McGee opened the box slowly and peered inside. "Well, it's sort of reddish in color."

"I would call that orange," Ziva corrected.

McGee shot her a cool look and continued, "Its legs are sort of transparent, and it's kind of small with big pinchers."

"Does it have a black dot on the back of its head?"

"Yes."

Ducky moaned, "It sounds like an Indian Red Scorpion, one of the most dangerous of the species."

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Jethro," Ducky whispered, "Tony is young and strong; he'll be fine."

The elevator doors opened and under the direction of Bob, the EMTs pulled up their gurney and medical supplies. Taking orders from Dr. Mallard, the patient was quickly prepared for transport, and wheeled away, with Ducky at his side and Bob and Hank close behind.

Gibbs stared at Tony's desk and the jacket that was left on the floor. _Whoever was playing this game could go on forever_. The thought unnerved him. That's when he saw it. Another envelope had been left neatly on his desk, and he knew who it was from. He pulled an evidence bag from his drawer and using a pair of tweezers, carefully placed it inside.

Ziva and McGee watched. "What is that?" she asked.

Ignoring the question, he tucked the bag into his pocket and growled at his team, "Scour Tony's desk and mine, pull security video, do whatever it takes to tell us who put that scorpion there!"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Gibbs sat in his car, looking carefully at everyone who dared walk by, feeling the bile of paranoia grow. He flipped open his phone and dialed. "McGee, I want you to run a search on anyone in the armed force who has both sniper training and has been to the Middle East in the past six months."

"Boss, that could be thousands of people."

"I know McGee, so get started!" He flipped his phone shut and sat there. There was nothing on the first note that Abby could pull off, but she did ascertain that the paper and pen on the second note were the same as the first. The words were different: **Are you feeling the pain yet**?

Yes, he was feeling the pain. Tony was feeling the pain, and he wasn't just thinking about the physical kind. This sort of retaliation takes an emotional toll on the victim. He'd seen it many times in the past from men who had experienced just half of what Tony's been through. The psychological war that Tony would begin to fight is going to be far worse than any bullet wound, bomb blast, or bug bite he might sustain. Whoever's doing this is good. And he's driven to succeed. He'll stop at nothing. And it was that thought that gave him comfort. All criminals begin to think they're too smart to get caught and that's their biggest mistake. He'll make a mistake and he'll get caught, the problem then becomes how much damage would be done to Tony before that final mistake is made?

88********************************

They had come to expect the unexpected with Tony, and seeing him in the office so soon after being bitten should not have surprised them, but it did. "You look like crap," McGee said from his desk.

"Getting shot in the head, blown up, and bitten by a scorpion tends to do that to you," Tony replied. But the truth was, he felt like crap. His body hurt, his head pounded, and his arm throbbed. The only thing he could ignore was all the cuts and bruises that persisted on lingering around and adorning his upper torso. Aside from those issues, the big problem he was having was concentrating. He felt anxious and irritable, and focusing on a task was far more work and took way more energy than he felt he could muster.

"Does Gibbs know you checked yourself out of the hospital?"

"Gibbs is not my keeper." As soon as he said it, he knew he shouldn't have. As if materializing out of thin air, Gibbs appeared and stood in front of him, his piercing blue eyes bearing down on him.

"Hey, Boss. I was—"

"—Conference room, DiNozzo. Now."

Tony's mind was in gear, and he saw himself jumping up and trotting behind his boss, maybe even engaging in light conversation, but for some unknown reason, that wasn't happening. "I'm coming, Boss," he yelled after him, willing himself to stand and follow.

Ziva tilted her head and furrowed her brow at his reaction. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied, forcing his body and brain to work together to deal with this newfound anxiety. He placed one hand on his desk, focusing on the task of standing, but could only feel the muscles as they constricted around his lungs.

"Tony?" McGee asked hesitantly, witnessing something he'd never seen from the senior field agent.

"Let it go, McGee!" he shot back. A second later, as if to say he'd regained composure, he stood abruptly, sending his chair crashing into his credenza. His body was controlled, if not mechanical, and with deliberate uneasiness, he made his way around his desk and towards the conference room.

Along the way, he stopped for water, taking a long drink from the fountain and enjoying the cool liquid as it slid down his throat. He was beginning to feel human again. Whatever had come over him seemed to be fading away. A couple of deep breaths and he'd be good as new. "Hey, Boss," he said, forcing a pleasantness that would win an academy award. Closing the door behind him, he said, "I know what you're thinking, but I'm fine."

Gibbs was already seated, his expression stolid, giving away nothing of what he was thinking, and making his senior field agent uncomfortable under the glare.

"I checked myself out of the hospital because I couldn't see lying around there another day."

Gibbs remained silent, knowing the effect he was having.

Tony continued to ramble, "After they gave me the anti-venom, I began to feel better right away, and let's face it, I'm feeling like the hospital is my home away from home anymore and since I'm on a first name basis with most of the staff, and my arm was feeling better, I figured it'd be okay to leave. Sure, I have to admit that I'm a little sore… actually, I'm sore as hell, but—"

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah, Boss."

"Sit down."

"Sure thing, Boss." Tony pulled the chair out and sat down, avoiding any use of his arm as he hugged it against his stomach.

"Tony, listen to me. Someone is trying to get to me through you." It was difficult to read the agent's reaction; difficult to know if he'd already figured this out, or if the information was new. He continued, "We don't know who it is, but we've got a lot of people working this. What I need from you is…cooperation. I need you to keep yourself out of harm's way so that I can catch this bastard."

Tony felt relieved yet anxious at the same time. "What makes you think it's YOU he wants?"

"I got a note. Abby's running it now."

"What kind of note?"

Gibbs tilted his head and Tony knew he wasn't going to get an answer. He looked around the small room, not really seeing it, thinking about his fate. Why had he chosen him as a means to get back at Gibbs? And what if this lunatic suddenly decided to go after Ziva, or McGee? Worse yet, what if Gibbs became his target? Better me than any one of them, he thought. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you where we can protect you."

Tony remembered how he slipped the security at DC General. "I don't want to go back to the hospital."

"Okay."

He remembered too how easy it was to slip Frick and Frack. "And I don't want Hank and Bob back either. Nice guys but they sort of cramp my style."

Gibbs smiled, "Okay."

"And—"

"Tony," Gibbs said, interrupting his senior field agent, "you're going to go home, pack a bag and take a vacation. Just till we get this person."

"Where am I going?"

"I'll let you know at the airport."

Tony sat a moment, thinking, knowing that Gibbs could see right through his facade, and feeling a little embarrassed that he was so easily frazzled. Forcing his thoughts to the present, he wondered if this situation could have an up-side. "Can I go to Belize? I dated a girl from there once and, wow, let me just say that she knew some things in the bedroom that would – " he stopped short, noticing Gibbs' expression. "Sorry, Boss."

Ziva and McGee were eager to see the results of the meeting yet quite surprised to find a seemingly resigned Tony clip his gun to his belt, pick up his backpack, and move slowly towards the elevators.

"Ziva, go with him," Gibbs whispered. "Don't let him slip you."

"Not a chance," she whispered back and then hurried to catch up.

Director Vance descended the steps and watched the two agents board the elevator. "How is he?"

"He'll be fine once we catch whoever's doing it."

"Ah, Boss," McGee said, "I need you to look at something."

"What."

"I think I've discovered a pattern in these attacks. The first attack, when he was grazed in the head in Shenandoah National park, occurred on a Wednesday. The bomb blast occurred exactly 18 days later. Then, the scorpion bite occurred nine days after that." McGee paused, then concluded, "The attacks are happening T/2n-1."

"McGee! What the hell does that mean?"

Vance clarified, "It means that the intervals between attacks are being reduced by half."

"If he continues to follows this pattern," McGee added, "then the next attack should occur—"

"—today!" Gibbs took off running towards the stairs and descended them two at a time.

Vance picked up the phone and dialed. Within thirty seconds, he had mobilized every available team and was dispersing them to points surrounding the building. He then dialed Abby and gave her access to the video cameras within NCIS. If that bastard was outside, he thought, they were going to find him.

Gibbs hit the metal door so hard it barely missed him on the backswing. Looking across the parking lot, he located his agents and yelled, "Tony! Ziva! Take cover!"

They turned around when they heard the shouting and saw Gibbs and McGee running towards them. Tony knew instantly what it meant and he reached for his gun, but he was too late. The impact of the bullet ripping through his leg spun him around and slammed him against his car.

"Tony!" Ziva yelled, catching him as he went down.

Every profanity known to man spewed from his lips. He tried to stand, but Ziva was already applying pressure to the wound, making it impossible to get up.

"We've got this Tony, stay down!" Gibbs ordered.

As much as he wanted to shoot the SOB with his own gun, Tony couldn't feel his leg to move it. The adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay, but the blood seemed to be escaping his body at a much faster rate than his partner was able to stop it.

Gibbs slid down beside him, almost knocking Ziva over. He looked at his agent, and what he saw unnerved him. "Tony, we got this bastard! You stay put! Did any of you see where the shot came from?"

McGee crouched low behind another car, "No, Boss. I didn't even see a flash."

Gibbs flipped his phone open and speed dialed. "Do you have an angle on the shot?"

"Yeah," Vance said, "and we got a team on it. Stay put until we give you the clear."

Gibbs turned his attention back to Tony. Ziva had already unbuckled and slid off Tony's belt and was using it to stave off the blood flow. She whispered, "We need to call an ambulance."

Gibbs shook his head, "No ambulance."

Tony looked up, temporarily taking his eyes off his throbbing leg.

"But he needs medical attention, Gibbs."

He assessed the wound, careful not to add to Tony's discomfort. In and out. He'd live. "When the Director calls, take him back inside to Autopsy."

"Where are you going?"

"To see if that bastard left anything behind."

Tony watched his boss leave, hissed at the pain in his leg, and then whispered, "I guess Belize is out."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ziva breathed a sigh of relief once they were in Autopsy and she could pass her partner off to Jimmy.

"Hey! Take it easy, Palmer!"

"Sorry, Tony. Our tables aren't meant for comfort."

"That's obvious."

"Tony," Ducky began "I'm going to have to cut off your pant leg."

"Figures…" After lying down, he was feeling slightly better. "I've already lost a pair of Ferragamo shoes, a Christian Dior tie, and an Eton dress shirt."

"Be thankful you haven't lost your life," Ducky said.

Ziva went to remove his gun and was startled when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist. She studied him a beat before explaining, "You'll be more comfortable on this table without it."

"I'll be more comfortable when this psycho is dead."

"That's okay, Tony. You can keep it with you if it makes you feel better," Ducky said. "Now then, let's have a look at this."

Tony stared up at the ceiling while the good doctor began his ministrations on his leg, only wincing when the probing came too close to the wound. He heard their voices and saw their concerned expressions, but unless they did something that caused him pain, he ignored them. Instead, he thought about this maniac who had fixated on him for whatever revenge he was after. Was this guy really that good? Just nicking him enough each time to cause pain and suffering? Or was he really bad at completing his mission? He tried to remember each and every attempt on his life, but it was all too fuzzy. Of course, the needle prick in his arm could have had something to do with his inability to put it together, but at least the pain in his leg had dulled. And that brought a heaviness to his lids that made it difficult to keep them open. Just for a minute, he thought, he would close them. And that's the last thing he remembered.

"How is he, Duck?" Gibbs said followed closely behind by McGee.

"He'll live. The wound was through and through and fairly clean. He was very fortunate that it wasn't several inches towards the inside of his leg where the femoral artery is located."

Gibbs took a minute to study Tony, presumably sedated and sleeping. He could still see the faint bruising and scars left over from the previous attacks, and now there was a bright white bandage wrapped neatly around his thigh.

Vance walked up behind him and peered down at the prone man. "I take it you didn't find anything?"

"No," Gibbs answered. "I've got Conlon and Cooper pulling surveillance tapes from every camera within a three mile radius."

"Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby said hurrying into the room. "I just heard! How is he?"

"He's going to be fine, Abby," Ziva answered. "He took a bullet in his leg but it went straight through."

Abby rounded the end of the table and put her hand protectively on Tony's shoulder. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's sedated, Abby," Ducky explained. "Most of my patients don't complain when I stitch them up, but I didn't think Tony would appreciate being awake for that. I can bring him back around anytime."

"Do it," Gibbs said and he turned and headed towards the exit.

"Jethro!" Ducky said, getting everyone's attention with his abrupt tone.

Gibbs stopped and turned, waiting for whatever seemed to be troubling the doctor.

"Tony's blood pressure is elevated."

Annoyed, Gibbs replied, "Well, yeah, Duck, mine would be too if I just got shot."

"You don't understand. Anthony is the steadiest agent we've got. For his blood pressure to be up is unusual. And before you tell me it's not, I've already called the hospital and checked his prior stats."

"What can I do about it?" Gibbs asked, still feeling the pangs of frustration.

"For starters, he needs a reprieve from these attacks. Some place where he can feel safe."

"I get it, Ducky. I'm taking him home with me." Before anyone could protest, Gibbs had disappeared through the doors.

The medical examiner looked down at his patient, unsure if the measure was going to be enough.

"Do not worry, Ducky, I will be there and I will make sure nothing happens to him," Ziva said.

"Me too," McGee added. "I'll be there as well."

"So will I," Abby added. When they looked at her inquisitively, she shrugged, "I may not be very good with a gun, but I can keep Tony thinking about everything but this guy who keeps shooting him."

88****************************

Gibbs stared at his senior field agent. He was peaceful in a tense way. His breathing was steady but his eyes moved rapidly. He was glad he decided not to wake him up for the ride home. It was easier that way, although it was no easy task getting him inside and into the basement, but he'd managed and now it was anyone's guess when he would wake up. It gave him some time to think about the case. McGee had come up with more than 500 men who had spent time in the Middle East and who had sniper training. He was going through each one now, trying to find a connection.

But something was missing. These attacks were personal, and selecting Tony was deliberate. He was not some random guy, either. He was Tony. Not Ziva, not McGee. Not Abby, Ducky or Palmer. Whoever this guy was chose Tony. And his gut told him that selecting Tony was a calculated move designed to send a message in a way words couldn't.

His phone ringing broke his concentration and he answered it simply, "Yeah."

"Boss," McGee said, "I think I found something. Well, not me, but Abby."

Gibbs flipped his phone shut.

88****************************

Tony opened his eyes. Not seeing anything that looked familiar, he shut them again, thinking this was yet another dream. It was the voice that made him think otherwise. "How are you feeling?"

He opened them again, and saw Ziva looking down at him. "I don't know. Where am I?"

"Gibbs' basement."

Tony licked his dry lips.

"Are you thirsty?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

She left his line of vision and returned with a paper cup filled with liquid. Sitting up proved more of a problem than he remembered, but the cool liquid felt good going down. He looked around at the darkened room. To his left was a half completed boat, its rib cage finely sanded. He looked down at what he was lying on and grimaced, "Is this a bed?"

Ziva smiled, "I do not know. It looks more like a table with a sheet on it."

"You don't s'pose this is where Gibbs sleeps when he gets too tired to work on his boat, do you?"

"I didn't think Gibbs ever slept." Responding to the minuteness of tremors that she observed when she took the cup from him, she said, "You are safe here."

"Yeah? I thought I was safe at NCIS. This guy… whoever's doing this, I have to admit has me a little unnerved."

"That is understandable. Ducky said you might need medication to rest."

Annoyed, Tony cocked his head at her and said, "What else did Ducky say?" Then, as if the thought was shot into his head, he grabbed for his gun. It was still there.

"He also said to leave your weapon alone, so I did."

"Well," Tony sighed, "it could be worse. You could be McGoo and I could be in a hospital."

She smiled and asked, "Are you hungry?"

The faintest of curves came to his lips and he asked, "Are you offering to make me something? If I recall, the last meal you cooked for me was quite good."

"I am offering to bring you a sandwich, assuming I can find something in the kitchen."

"Nah, I haven't been very hungry these past—"

A creaking sound caught his attention and Tony had his gun drawn and aimed at the steps before it stopped. Ziva gently pressed his hand down, preventing him from shooting the visitor. Whispering, she said, "It is only Gibbs."

"Trying to shoot me, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss. I didn't know it was you. You have any leads?"

Gibbs swapped out some papers on his workbench and said, "I'll let you know when I get back." He paused at the bottom of the steps, looking intently at his senior field agent. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah."

Not believing it, he looked straight at Ziva and said, "Don't let him leave."

Ziva watched her boss ascend the steps and disappear before she cooed, "If he tries, I think I can be very persuasive."

Tony felt a layer of anxiety peel away at her sultry eyes. He always found this side of her to be particularly erotic, and she played the role of a seductress exquisitely.

88****************************

The music was up-beat and blaring, very normal for the Goth's lab. What was unusual was the dim lighting and fifteen caf-pows lined up on her computer table. Abby looked up when her boss entered.

"Gibbs! I'm working around the clock but I'm afraid they're gonna run out of caf-pows—"

"Abby, turn down the music!"

She pointed the remote and the music lowered.

"Tell me you found something."

"I did! Actually, WE did."

She clicked away on her keyboard until the video tape of the bullpen was displayed. She fast forwarded to the part on the tape where Tony, Hank, and Bob were playing cards. "This is before Tony got stung by the scorpion. You, Ziva and McGee had left to investigate a crime at around three o'clock, leaving Tony behind. You returned at seven o'clock. But watch what happens at 6:45. Hank opens a small suitcase and pulls out several slick looking guns, only they aren't real guns, their paint-ball guns. I checked his background and he's a paintball enthusiast. Now, watch what he does." She fast forwarded the tape to about 6:50 and said, "Watch the camera. Tony says, 'Are you any good?' Then Hank replies, 'I can shoot a moving target at twenty yards.' Bob doesn't seem too impressed so Hank looks around the room, lands on a spot above the camera and says, 'Shoot that bug on the ceiling.' Bob says, 'There's no bug on the ceiling.' Hank replies, 'Okay, then, shoot the tile next to the camera.' Tony, interested, says, 'You'd better be prepared to clean up your mess. If Gibbs sees it, you'll likely end up painting this entire building.' Bob takes aim, and shoots the tile next to the camera. Satisfied with his shot, he hands the other paint-ball gun to Hank and says, 'Your turn.' Hank aims carefully and shoots the camera lens." Abby finished her monologue and stared at her boss.

"What does all this tell me?"

McGee punched on his keyboard and said, "I pulled Hank Stile's record and he graduated top of his class in marksmanship. He spends an hour a day at the range and nobody in the agency has a better record. In other words, he doesn't miss when he aims his gun."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting he hit exactly what he intended to hit."

Abby displayed the paint splattered view from the camera again, "We lose audio and visual in the squad room for a period of about 8 minutes, long enough for someone to drop Mr. Red Tail into Tony's jacket. We ran the facial recognition program against the surveillance tapes that were pulled around the Navy Yard when Tony was shot, and guess whose image appears?"

She displayed a grainy photo of a hooded man and paused at the moment he furtively glances around. Enhancing the image, she enlarged it to display a man bearing the resemblance of Hank Stiles.

Gibbs quickly turned and had almost made it out of the room when he was called back, "Gibbs! Gibbs! There's more!"

He did an about face and returned.

McGee typed on his keyboard and displayed official credentials, "Hank Stile's real name is Hank Chambers, son of Gunnery Sergeant William Chambers."

The minute the man's photo was displayed, it all came back to him. Gunnery Sergeant Chambers sold out his country for a fast ticket home. They had served together in the early 90's in Iraq, and Gibbs smelt something funny about him from the first time they'd met. It had taken him several months of phishing, but he had finally pieced it all together; unfortunately, it wasn't before a small US strike force had been obliterated by Iraqi forces and a half dozen US soldiers had been killed. With the evidence he had gathered and brought forth, Gunnery Sergeant Chambers was charged with treason and sent to a military prison, but he never reached the prison; instead, he had been mysteriously killed en route.

Abby and McGee stared at the picture, reading the information and shaking their heads. Abby said, "Didn't he serve the same time you—"

"C'mon, McGee."

"Wait for me! I want to see Tony too!"

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thanks to all who have taken the time to comment. Some suggestions/ideas are really good and I may try to incorporate some of them into my story. **_

Chapter 6

Tony pushed the food around, hoping his partner wouldn't take offense. "It's really good, but I'm not very hungry."

Ziva simply said, "You should eat. This whole mess can do a number on your mind. The best way to help that is to keep your body strong and healthy."

"Thank you, Dr. David, I'll keep that in mind. But I can think of other ways to keep my body healthy." His facial muscles relaxed into a seductive smile.

"Make fun all you want, Tony, but you know as well I do that you've been through a lot. Like your body, your nerves need time to heal."

"She's right, you know."

At the sound of the man's voice, Ziva went for her gun. "Ducky!" she said, "you should not sneak up on us like that."

Tony smiled and said, "Now who's going to shot who?"

As he descended the stairs, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Ziva, I didn't mean to startle you. Mr. Palmer and I thought we would stop by to see how he's doing."

"Breena wouldn't let me come home until I could assure her that you were okay."

"I never knew she cared."

"Oh, yes. She knows all about you—," realizing the oddness of what he just shared, he backtracked and clarified, "She knows all about ALL of you, not just you, Tony. I've shared with her your stories, and so she feels she knows you even though she's only met you a few times."

Ziva smiled, "That's nice, Jimmy. I look forward to getting to know her better. To answer your question, Ducky, Tony is stubborn, juvenile, and generally being difficult. In other words, he's fine."

Ducky gave the field agent a good once over. If the truth be known, there were no better words to hear regarding this particular man. "Ziva has a point, Anthony. Your nerves do need time to heal. Being the target of some madman set on revenge can have lasting negative effects."

"I'm fine, Ducky. I can't walk too well of course, but I'm fine." He figured if he said it, he might believe it. But the truth of the matter was he was anxious and couldn't seem to shake a general state of apprehension.

"Do you hear that?" Ziva asked, cocking her head slightly.

"What?"

"Someone's knocking at the front door." She pulled her weapon, "stay here," and disappeared up the steps.

Ducky observed Tony, noticing a slight movement toward his own weapon and suggesting that his nerves weren't quite as fine as he would have liked everyone to believe.

Palmer looked around, seeing for the first time the hull of a boat. "I had only ever heard stories about a boat in Gibbs' basement, but I never thought he actually had one."

"Oh yes, Mr. Palmer. This is his third, I believe."

"Third? But how does he get them—"

"—Look who came to visit you, Tony," Ziva said, interrupting the conversation. She lead the man down the steps and then stepped aside so he could see the familiar face standing behind her.

Hank Stiles stepped forward, next to the petite brunette and smiled down on the prone figure. "Hey, Tony. I heard you were shot. I couldn't help but think that you let us go a bit too early. Bob and I might have prevented it."

Tony shook his hand and answered, "No offense, but if Ziva couldn't have prevented it, I doubt you or Bob could have. But thanks for offering."

"Where's Gibbs?"

"I left him with Abby, our forensic scientist. I think she had found something," Ducky answered.

Palmer agreed, "If anyone can uncover the truth, it's Abby Scuito. Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll be going. Breena's holding dinner."

Ziva answered for everyone, "Enjoy your dinner. We will see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jimmy, for coming by," Tony said.

Hank watched the man with the circular framed glasses leave and turned his attention to the man that he thoroughly enjoyed protecting. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Tired of lying around all day, but can't complain too much. Hey, Ducky, thanks for stitching me up."

"You're welcome. I didn't think you were too anxious to return to the hospital."

"You got that right."

Palmer exited the front door and practically ran head on into Gibbs, "Oh! I'm sorry, Sir—I mean— Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs stepped aside and patiently waited for the medical assistance to walk past.

"You've got quite a party going on in your basement, but I have to leave on account of Breena's holding dinner for me."

Abby suggested, "You really should bring her around, Jimmy. We'd like to get to know her better."

"She said the same thing about you," he added, although he didn't seem to understand why. "Must be a girl thing," he said under his breath as he passed McGee.

Gibbs watched Palmer get into his car and drive off.

"Boss? What's wrong?" McGee asked, observing his boss' sudden hesitation to move and his penchant for staring into the darkness.

"Whose car is that?"

McGee shrugged, "Palmer said there's a party in your basement. Maybe it's someone who's visiting Tony?"

"But nobody knows he's here, except us."

Abby saw Ducky's car, and Ziva's car, and she had parked behind McGee while Gibbs had pulled into his driveway. "Maybe it belongs to a neighbor?"

Gibbs' gut churned. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Ziva…, are you okay?"

Robotically, she replied, "No—"

"Hello, Gibbs," Hank purred into the phone, "if you want to see Special Agent DiNozzo, the very pretty Ziva David, and the exceptionally capable Dr. Mallard alive, you'll do exactly as I say. The slightest variation will force me to put a bullet in the skull of one of them."

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

_**This is the last installment of this story. Glad so many people enjoyed it. **_

Chapter 7

Gibbs stared at the man who had betrayed everyone's trust. Hank Stiles seemed sure of himself, justified in his actions, and relaxed. He also was the spittin' image of his old man now that he had put the two together. The metal chains clanked before him on the concrete floor but only his eyes dropped to see them.

"Pick 'em up and cuff those two to the chair. And don't try anything; I'll know if you do and then I'll have to follow through on my earlier threat and put a bullet in someone's head."

Gibbs bent down and picked up the hand-cuffs and looked at Ziva and Ducky. Both were sitting in old chairs with their hands behind their backs. She was sporting a cut across her brow and Ducky's hair was disheveled. He hesitated a moment before looking at Tony, but when he did, all he saw in those eyes was revenge.

Stiles nodded towards two more chairs that had been stacked in a corner waiting for the repairs they so desperately needed, then nodded towards the others.

Gibbs cuffed McGee's hands behind his back and then Abby's hands. To her, he whispered, "Just do what he says." _Afterall, it's me he wants, not any of you_. After Hank inspected his work, Gibbs asked, "What do you want, Stiles?"

"I want you. I want you to suffer like I suffered. I want you to feel the pain like I felt the pain."

"Your father was a traitor. He betrayed his country and got soldiers killed in the process. And all for what; a few dollars in his pocket? Tell that to the families of the men he killed."

"SHUTUP! He didn't do those things!" Hank grabbed Tony by his shirt and dragged him off the make-shift table. "I'm sorry, Tony, to have to do this. I really like you. I had a lot fun with you, and I can see why Gibbs likes having you around."

Tony balanced on one leg, ignoring the blood that trickled down his cheek from an earlier well placed punch. "If you like me so much, why'd you do it?"

"Because I wanted to get to your boss, and you were the only way. Well, perhaps not the ONLY way, but you were the BEST way. I did my research and I knew what his Achilles heel was… YOU."

"I'm just a field agent, expendable at that. What makes you think you got to him?"

"He doesn't have a wife and daughter anymore; otherwise I would have taken them. But someone else already did that… right, Gibbs?"

Leroy Jethro Gibbs glared.

"That's what I thought. So, the next best thing was one of your people. Anyone would have done nicely, but I chose you because you were the most challenging to me. And I believe Gibbs knows that if someone could get to you, that someone could get to anyone."

Tony didn't see the butt of the gun coming his way, but he felt the shot of pain as it ripped the skin off his cheek and sent him flying backwards into the table, not exactly sure what was hurting more, his leg or his head.

Gibbs flinched and Hank pointed his gun directly at Tony's head. "Go ahead, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs! Make a move! I'm going to put a bullet in his head so you might as well at least try to save him!"

Gibbs relaxed back into his stance and thought. If he could keep him talking, he could stall for time. Ziva and McGee were his best bets right now, but they weren't exactly in any position to mount an offensive move. Ducky and Abby were safe as long as they stayed out of the way, and that left Tony, possibly too weak to do anything. He held out his arms and shrugged, "Okay, Stiles, what do you want me to do? I can't bring your father back from the dead; I can't change the circumstances of his conviction. What do you want from me?"

"Good question, and one I've spent a lot of time asking myself. What exactly do I want from you? First, I want you to have a front row seat!" He shoved Gibbs into a chair and used his own set of cuffs to bind his arms behind his back. Admiring his handiwork, he continued, "I want you to cry. I want you to shed tears over his death. I want you to feel pain like I did."

Stiles moved next to Ziva and ran the barrel of his gun down her face, lovingly, "Maybe I'll take this little lady into the back room and show her a good time. Or…" he moved closer to the doctor and said, "maybe I'll slice the doctor's throat, and we can watch his head fall off." Moving over to McGee, he continued, "Or maybe I'll shoot him in the stomach and we can watch him die a long, slow and agonizing death. Any of this sound good enough for you, Gibbs?"

Stiles fondled Abby's pigtail and added, "So many choices; so little time. Maybe you'd like to make my decision for me? What should I do, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"I think you should put that gun to your head and pull the trigger. That's what I'd like to see happen."

Stiles chuckled at the remark, wondering why he thought the man would say anything else. He shoved the gun down his waistband and jerked Tony to his feet. Using an extra sets of cuffs, he said, "Tony, my man, you're not going to like this, but it's what I planned all along, and there's one thing my father taught me that I remember, and that was to always stick to your plan. See those pipes up there?"

Tony looked up, catching his ragged breath and balanced on one leg. Between the beams of the floorboards were several thick copper pipes running the length of the room.

"You're going to cuff yourself to them."

"Like Hell I am."

The knee to his wounded thigh crumpled him and he fell hard onto the concrete floor, grabbing at the leg that Ducky had earlier stitched up.

"Stop it!" Abby yelled. "Leave him alone!"

By the time Tony's vision cleared, he could see Hank staring down on him, dangling the cuffs. "You care to rethink your position?"

He pulled Tony up by the shirt and repeated, "Like I said, you're going to cuff yourself to those pipes."

It took a good bit of maneuvering, but Tony eventually managed to stand on a chair and thread the cuffs over the pipes and secure each wrist. Looking over at the man that was the cause of so much pain, he mumbled, "Now what?"

"Now…." Hank replied malevolently, "you get to dangle." He kicked the chair out from underneath him and Tony dropped to the floor, only he stopped just short of touching it. With three inches to go, he was left to hang on with what strength he had left. Hank made sure he studied Gibbs when he did this and was rewarded by the slightest ray of anger skirting across his face. "I'm impressed, Gibbs. They don't make houses like this anymore, with good solid copper piping that can hold the weight of a grown man. Hang in there Tony; this should all be over soon."

"Stiles, let him go and take me," Gibbs said. "I'll do wherever you want."

_This is more like it_, Hank thought. Finally, he was getting to this man of stone. "I don't think so. I like seeing you this way. And, I'm in no hurry, so I thought I would tell you how I pulled this caper off so brilliantly."

Tony held onto the pipes so his weight wasn't being held up by his wrists. He shifted from one hand to the next, trying to get a grip on the thin pipes that were too close to the beam to allow his hands easy access.

McGee growled, "Why don't you do that to a man that's not injured!"

Abby added, "Why are you doing this!"

Ziva answered, "He is a coward. Only cowards do it this way!"

Hank shook his head in annoyance, "Don't you get it? I'm not after Tony! I like him. Didn't we have some good times shooting hoops?" He waited expectantly for an answer from the dangling man.

"Go to Hell!"

"Tell that to your boss!" he yelled. "You should be angry at HIM, not ME! He's the one doing this to you, not me! If he had minded his own business—"

He stopped short, feeling he had let too much out. Angrily, he slammed his elbow into Tony's side, no doubt a direct hit to the kidneys.

Tony moaned in pain and squirmed under the strain of the cuffs. Sweat dripped off his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

"STOP!" Gibbs demanded. "I said I'd go with you. Take me and leave them alone!"

Hank paced the floor, maniacal eyes shifting from object to object while his head shook back and forth. "You still don't get it, do you? My father was dragged from the vehicle and beaten to death! How do you think he felt?" Another thrust of his fist landed squarely on Tony's mid-section and he lifted his knees, though the attempt was feeble. There was no protecting his body from the blows that rained down on him.

As he struggled to keep his weight off his wrists, he noticed what looked like a crack in the pipe. The sweat dripping into his eyes made it difficult to see, but he was sure that's what it was. The copper piping, with all the strain of his weight coupled with the irregular jerking, had buckled, and Tony saw the black scratch. He caught McGee's eyes and ticked his head up.

Tim wasn't sure what Tony was trying to say, but he was definitely trying to get his attention. He looked up but there was no way of seeing anything against the blackened ceiling.

Gibbs caught Hank's attention and said, "I'm the one you want. If I were you and I had the opportunity to beat the crap out of the person who blew the whistle on my dad, I'd do it. I wouldn't waste time on someone who had nothing to do with the arrest of your father." If nothing else, maybe reason would work.

"Waste time? I'm not going to waste time, Gibbs. I'm gonna mess him up, and then…" he turned and landed another blow to Tony's ribs. "…then I'm gonna kill him!"

Tony looked straight at his computer geek colleague and replied, "How much longer you think I can last?"

Tim still wasn't catching on but Ziva was. She saw what McGee couldn't; a tiny hair-like fracture in the pipe. Feigning conversation, she said, "It's a shame to waste all that anger on one person. You should spread it around."

"Nice try, sweetheart, but one is enough. Besides, I want to avenge my father's death, and right now, I'm feeling like I'm doing that." He swung another fist around and caught Tony just below the belt, knocking whatever breath away.

With his attention on Tony, she mouthed to McGee, "The pipe is cracked."

Finally, he got it! And he began his calculations. Based on Tony's weight, he figured a copper pipe would completely snap with thirty pound of force per square inch. Without leverage, it would be difficult for Tony to apply that much pressure, but with a little help, he just might be able to do it.

Tony's glazed eyes caught Tim's.

McGee nodded his head and asked, "You ready, Tony?"

Hank turned around, confused. "Ready for what?"

Ziva answered, "Ready to get out of here."

Hank laughed, "Pretty Ziva, there's no way your partner's getting out of—." The impact from behind caught him by surprise and he slammed into his dangling victim. Reaching out for balance, he did exactly what McGee had hoped. He grabbed a hold of Tony. With the added weight, the pipe snapped, and Tony dropped to the floor. The two landed in a heap. Unfortunately for Hank, he had fallen backwards onto DiNozzo, and by the time he realized what had happened, Tony had already wrapped the chain around his neck and was squeezing it as tight as his pain racked body would allow.

Stiles tried to pull the chain off, but he couldn't grasp it. He tried to slide his fingers under the chain, but it was cutting into his throat and he felt his oxygen supply slowly diminishing.

Tony squeezed harder, ignoring the pain that was once all consuming but was now little more than a numbness. The struggling began to decrease and he knew that the man's life was slipping away. He felt nothing; no joy at this man's death, no sadness, no regret, no nothing…

"—Tony! Let him go!"

But Tony didn't hear anyone. In fact, he didn't hear anything, just silence. Even Stile's gasping for breath was lost in the silence. Life became surreal. He was singularly focused: choke the life out of Stiles.

He might have succeeded too had it not been for the sudden pain on his skull, followed quickly by flashes of light, and then total blackness.

88***************************

Tony felt warm and comfortable, and… relieved?

He hadn't felt like this in a long time. He wasn't even sure if relief was what he felt, but, whatever it was, it was nice, and it felt good, and he could feel this way forever. But something was trying to mess with his serenity. He jerked his head away from the putrid odor, but it didn't seem to go away.

"Easy, Anthony."

Tony blinked his eyes and saw Ducky looking down on him. His mouth was dry, full of cotton, and it was hard to speak.

"You're okay, but you probably have one hell of a headache."

Tony just wanted to close his eyes. Each time he tried, a putrid smelling odor was thrust under his nostrils. He did his best to swallow, but there was no saliva in his mouth, and no moisture on his lips.

"Here, have some water."

He saw the glass in front of him, but it kept moving and fading in an out. "Whad… Where…."

"You're still in Gibbs' basement."

His memory was fuzzier than his vision, and it took a minute to comprehend what he had heard. When it finally sunk in, he thought of Stiles. The vision of his partner falling to the floor seemed to replay in his mind. "Ziva? Is she okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine, Tony."

He blinked, more to clear his vision than anything else. He remembered that Stiles had knocked her to the floor with the butt of his weapon. She was blurry but sounded normal. "McGee okay?" he mumbled.

McGee moved into his line of vision and said, "I'm fine. And you're looking a little better than you were earlier."

"Where's Stiles?" he whispered.

"He's gone. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

"Did I… Is he…?"

"Dead? You didn't kill him if that's what you want to know. But he won't be bothering you or Gibbs anymore."

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but there wasn't much time to ponder it. His eyes were closed and as much as he tried to open them, they wouldn't cooperate. He gave in and thought he'd rest for just a minute.

"He's out again," Abby stated, staring down at the battered man and feeling sympathy pains from all the cuts and bruises on his body.

"Just as well," Ducky said, "he needs the rest. May I impose upon one of you to help me?" He brought out his bag and fished out what he needed. After ten minutes, he stood up, stretching. "I don't think my back can take much more of this."

"I will do it," Ziva said, taking the bandages and antiseptic from his hands. She tenderly cleaned the cuts and lacerations that had been inflicted on her partner's face, and under the doctor's tutelage, applied several bandages designed to minimize scaring.

"You make a good assistance, Agent David."

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard. I think it helps when the patient is unconscious."

Gibbs descended the steps and approached the group that seemed to be fussing over his senior field agent. He was a bit surprised at his condition. "He hasn't come around yet?"

"He did briefly, but then he slipped off again. He needs the rest more than he needs to talk. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept for twelve, maybe fourteen, hours."

"How's Stiles?" Abby asked.

"He'll live."

"You think Tony would have killed him?"

"Oh yeah."

Abby studied the field agent. She'd always known that he was a more than a capable agent, but she'd never experienced this side of him. "He can be scary."

Ziva finished her ministrations and looked at the Goth. She looked unnerved, which was itself unnerving. "Tony has many sides, Abby. I doubt he would have wanted to frighten you."

"She's right," McGee added. "If Tony thought for a minute that he upset you, I know he wouldn't stop apologizing for days. Besides, he knows Gibbs would kill him if he upset you."

Gibbs shrugged, agreeing in his mute way.

Abby touched his shoulder, careful not to squeeze too hard. "It can't be good to have that much negative energy going through your body."

"He's a survivor, Abs," Gibbs said. "He'll be fine."

"I guess so, but he should come home with me tonight."

McGee was just one of four people who perked up his head at her comment. "Ah, that's probably not a good idea. See, waking up in a coffin probably isn't conducive to his state of mind."

Ziva agreed, "He's right, Abby. Maybe he should stay with me. I have an extra bed."

"Actually, I was thinking he should come home with me tonight," McGee said.

"He's not going anywhere. I have him tonight. Go on, take off."

Ducky had already packed up his bag because he knew the outcome of this conversation without having to hear it. "I'll be back in the morning to check on him."

"I'll come by too—"

"Go home. Go to work in the morning and finishing processing the evidence on Stiles. I'll call you when he comes around."

Reluctantly, they made their way up the steps, leaving Gibbs alone. Up until now, he hadn't looked too long or too closely at Tony, but now, he studied him, feeling proud of his agent. The bruises were worsening and deepening and that was hard to stomach, but his expression didn't seem so strained. In fact, he thought Tony looked peaceful.

He picked up a course block and began the relaxing task of finely sanding the wood on his boat. It would take some time for Tony to recover. The cuts and bruises would heal long before his nerves would, but he would eventually make it. DiNozzo was a fighter, and a survivor. Yeah, he'd make it okay. And that was the first time, since this ordeal began, that Gibbs allowed the smallest of smiles to cross his lips.

~Fini


End file.
